Day of Reverence
by Corey Lin
Summary: Ron Weasley reflects on life as a husband and new father.


Disclaimer: Dang it, I still don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: This is a companion piece to my story "Day of Remembrance". Just another short one-shot, I've got a couple more in my head set in this same little universe that I may try to get out before my next school term starts and I get so bogged down in homework that I'm writing little more than essays.

Day of Reverence

August 28, 2007

It was a sight he would never grow tired of. Ron Weasley leaned against the doorjamb, content to just relax and watch the sight of his wife and daughter, as they sat in the creaky old rocker; the one that Hermione's mother had gifted them with as soon as she learned of her daughter's pregnancy. She had insisted that it was family tradition, the chair having been given to her by her husband's mother when she had given birth all those years ago. It was, she had told him proudly, a Granger family antique. Although, and she had almost seemed sad to say it, now that the youngest of the Grangers was now a Weasley, it perhaps had lost just a bit of it's meaning. Ron had recoiled at the first sign of it, having no prior warning of its imminent arrival in his home. The wood was dark, polished over the years to a dull sheen that spoke of the many hands that had run along the curved wood, the many bodies that rested upon it. The cushions were colorful, too new to be original, but obviously handmade many years ago, comfortable enough to sit on, he had nodded when pressed into trying out the chair, trying desperately not to let his true feelings show to his slightly emotional mother-in-law and his very emotional pregnant wife. It wasn't, he had tried to justify to himself, anything against the chair itself, it was a serviceable enough piece of furniture, but he couldn't help but feel dismay at the look of it. It looked like the furniture he had grown up with, the furniture that filled and overfilled his parents' house. The designation of the chair as an antique had no special prestige to him, for Ron, all that meant was old. And growing up as the second youngest of seven, he'd had enough of old by the time he had started Hogwarts. He hated being poor, hated having to make do with used books and wands and robes and pets and this hatred was reflected in everything surrounding him as an adult.

Between his job as an Auror and Hermione's ministry position, they made enough money that Ron was finally able to leave the label of poor behind him, he hoped for good. They had been married for just over seven years now, a fact that still amazed him when he stopped to think about it, unable to believe how quickly they had passed. They married just weeks after Hermione finished school, neatly filling the lull between the celebrations that accompanied the first anniversary of the destruction of Voldemort and the huge elaborate affair that marked the marriage of Ron's little sister to his best friend. Within a year, they were able to purchase their first home just down the road from the huge house that Harry and Ginny were building. It was nothing fancy, the house itself could almost be described as tiny, although Ron preferred the word cozy, but it sat miles from the nearest village, on several acres filled with wide sweeping meadows and towering trees.

Hermione had said nothing when he had insisted that everything in their new home be brand new, from the dishtowels to the dustbins. Likewise, she hadn't raised a single protest when upon learning of his impending fatherhood; he had insisted that the nursery be decked out in brand new furniture and accessories, most featuring a bright scene encompassing golden snitches and red quaffles that danced in and out among frolicking magical creatures. She had laughingly pointed out just how unlike Norbert the cuddly winged dragon babies on the tiny duvet were, and Ron had even joined in with a few comments about how the smiling baby unicorns looked more constipated than cute. But the nursery stayed, pristine and sparkling new until just four short months ago, when what Ron considered to be the greatest thing he'd ever been a part of, his newborn daughter, was placed into his arms, squalling and red-faced. She invaded the room and their lives, bringing both into a chaotic swirl of dirty nappies and spit up and sleep deprivation.

And in the midst of this obscenely cheerful nursery, in the out of place chair, sat Hermione. Her normal wizarding robes were nowhere in sight, and Ron couldn't help but pause and stare at the way the muggle shirt she wore left her arms and shoulders so deliciously bared. He was fully prepared to admit that in the area of clothing, the muggles' ideas on women's clothing was head and shoulders above the decidedly Victorian garments favored by Witches' fashion. As uncomfortable as he still was in the muggle world, he definitely appreciated the days she spent with her parents while he was at work, as she had obviously done today, judging by her clothing and the pram he'd passed on his way in. Sandals lay abandoned just inside the nursery door, and one bare foot was tucked up underneath her while the other was propped up on the edge of Rose's crib, giving her leverage to rock. The long skirt she wore flowed from the outstretched leg, almost touching the floor in unintentional but undeniably graceful waves. Ron wanted to do nothing more than stare at her forever, memorizing the expression on her face as she focused all of her attention on the babe at her breast. He had been sure on their wedding day that she was the most beautiful thing in the world, her cheeks flushed with excitement, a smile on her face to rival any she had ever worn before, her hair, that wonderful long bushy hair flying around her as she moved, unhampered by the wreath of flowers that Ginny had perched upon her head. But he had been wrong; she had been more beautiful the day she told him he was going to be a father, running into the Auror department, that same long hair streaming behind her and her eyes sparkling with excitement. She had taken his breath away the first time she held Rose, her face red and sweaty and her hair pulled up into a hasty knot on the top of her head, still struggling to return her breathing to normal. He couldn't explain it, but it seemed that recently, every time he looked at her, each of those moments seemed to pale before the beauty she exuded now.

Sunlight filtered through the trees outside to cover the floor, the chair and the pair within it in dancing spots of pale golden and green tinted light. While outside the heavy August air was almost oppressive, the slight breeze that always seemed to exist on this side of their home, paired with the row of trees that stood tall above the roof, kept the nursery cool even in the warmest of weather. The sunlight highlighted the different tones in Hermione's hair, just as long and bushy as ever, but now tamed slightly in a quick ponytail in deference to tiny hands that loved to grab it and pull. A shift in the breeze outside and the rustling of the leaves accompanied a shift in the sun and it caught the red fuzz covering Rose's head, making it shine like fire. He must have made some sound, because Hermione raised her head and turned to him with the brilliant smile that she seemed to reserve just for him and a soft "Hi."

Three large strides brought him easily to her side where, he sank gracelessly to the floor beside the chair, close enough to lay one hand on Rose's head as he leaned into to kiss her. Rose responded with a huge milky smile before she returned to the serious business of eating, allowing him to give his wife a quick kiss before leaning back against the crib. "Hi yourself. Have a good day with your mum?"

"It was nice, we did a bit of shopping and had lunch. I got to see some old school chums and show off my beautiful daughter."

"What did they think?"

"Well at first they seemed amazed that anyone would ever want to marry boring old brainy Hermione Granger."

"Idiots. The lot of them." He grinned at her. Her distain for her playmates of childhood and the flighty, gossipy women they had grown into was no secret in their household.

She shook her head and ignored his comment. "But they did agree just how beautiful our daughter is, then of course I got all the 'Oh Hermione, we simply must have you and your husband to supper the next time you're in town' nonsense and resisted the urge to hex all of them."

"Good girl. I'd have hated to have had to come and arrest my own wife." He leaned in and kissed her again.

"Speaking of arresting people, aren't you home a bit early?"

"Harry got called away and so they let me leave once I finished up our paperwork."

"Where was Harry off to?"

"St. Mungo's." He looked up and grinned at her. "Did I forget to mention that Ginny's having the baby?"

She sat straight up, the movement producing an unhappy squawk from a sleepy Rose, forcing her to quit glaring at her husband and sit back and settle the baby. "Why didn't anyone let me know?"

"There's soot all over the kitchen floor and there were two owls on the windowsill, so I'm guessing they tried, but you weren't home."

She looked at him in dismay. "I told Ginny that I'd take James when it was time, I just didn't expect it to happen for another couple of weeks. I mean she's not even due until the day after Jamie's birthday and she was almost two weeks late with him, so when Mum asked if I wanted to spend the day with her, I didn't think anything of it, I figured Ginny would have another two or three weeks. Oh, she must be so upset with me."

Ron leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss. Every once in a while, he still saw so much of the over-excited first year with the bushy hair and tendency to talk very fast in his wife. "Relax. Ginny and Harry weren't expecting it either, they still haven't moved Jamie out of the nursery into his new bed yet. But Teddy's there this week, and when they couldn't get in touch with you, he took Jamie through the floo to the Burrow, we'll just need to go pick them up." They were silent for a few seconds, just watching Rose's eyes drift shut as she continued to lazily suck. He spoke up again, "You know what this means, them having the baby today instead of next week?"

She thought for a second before remembering the date. "This baby will go to Hogwarts with Rose instead of the year after." She smiled. "And they'll only be a year behind Jamie, so they'll all be there together."

"And it means that Rose won't be going alone the same year as Malfoy's spawn." Hermione gave him a withering look. "What? I may have to work with him occasionally, but I definitely don't have to like him. And you really think his kid is going to be any different than he was as a first year?"

"Maybe. He's a lot different than he used to be, and a lot different than his father." She moved Rose away from her breast and tugged her shirt down, letting her foot drop to the floor and sitting up again, much gentler this time, mindful of the almost asleep child in her arms. "Well then I'll need to get changed to head to your parents', and I'm sure everyone will be gathering there to wait for news, so I'll want to help your Mum out in the kitchen." They both stood and gently transferred Rose into her father's arms. "She'll need to be changed before we go."

"I'll take care of it." He bent down and kissed his wife again. The sense of contentment and love swelled within him again, his daughter, who he adored with every ounce of his being, was tucked into his arms and his wife that he loved so deeply that even he was surprised by its intensity was before him. As far as Ron Weasley was concerned, life was perfect.


End file.
